New Energy
by Verve
Summary: A story that came from two comments I heard in the DVD commentary, one of which was about the larger canisters used to house the larger amounts of energy produced by laughter vs. screams. Sullivan with oc.


            As the sun slowly rose on Monstropolis, the streets were already filled with movement. Cheerful blobs and masses of tentacles made their way to their jobs and started their lives on what was shaping up to be a beautiful day. The cars were lumbering through the streets in mass force now that the energy crisis had been resolved, and with the exception of the blast of an errant horn here and there, most of them were content to hum over the roads. Shopkeepers shouted (or roared, as the case was for some) their greetings as they opened for the day, and everything was pleasant. Had James P. Sullivan been there to see it, the scene may have filled him with the sort of warm glow a sight like that could give a monster.

            As it was he was sitting in his office, cloistered in the depths of the belly of the monster (if you will excuse the euphemism) that was the Monsters Incorporated building. Numbers weren't adding up somewhere, and quota's were being miscalculated; there was chaos in the books and it was giving him headaches, and a building burning sensation deep in his gut that wasn't the most comfortable feeling either. He'd been up all night, again. It wasn't uncommon that he didn't sleep some nights, and even less common that he made it home at all. Normally, Mike would've been there to monitor if he'd been working too hard, but with a 'monstie' on the way and a new house to work on, they hadn't really seen much of each other.

            Sully looked up with two red eyes and glanced at the picture of Mike and his wife on their honeymoon at the dulcet Slime Pits of the Snotty Isles. He remembered Celia's complaints about what the humidity did to her hair, and how her hair had nodded emphatically in agreement.

            It was strange to think of her as an expectant mother, and his best friend as a father-to-be. Celia wouldn't be working for the company for awhile; yesterday she'd said her tearful goodbyes and hugged everyone as best she could from around her bulging stomach.  Mike had been there coddling her at every moment, making sure that nothing was too taxing on her fragile state, and that she didn't lift a tentacle unnecessarily. Sully remembered watching with a sad twinge of something he couldn't name as she complained at Mike's every attempt, but never really stopped him from actually helping her out.

            He glanced at his watch. 6:30. The first employees would be trickling in by now, including the new receptionist he'd agreed to train during a thoughtless moment of magnanimity for Celia. It wasn't until he had made his way down to the desk and sat for a moment that he realized he had now idea what he was doing. Buttons flashed, and even more sat idle and colorless. Receivers and headsets where scattered about, and a stack of papers that looked suspiciously like the now defunct scare forms were sitting off to the side. There was a small cough from the other side of the desk.

            "Um, I'm sorry, I seem to be lost. Could you please direct me to main desk?"

            She was short, no more than five feet tall, but she was round. This is, not to say she was fat, there was really no way of knowing through the globe of fur; a dark reddish with a purple tinge, extreme curl, and several bits of white all down her back. From out of the fur all that could be seen were two red arms, attached to two hands and a matching set long fingers tipped with manicured claws, tipped with white, two red legs with feet in a sensible pair of white flats, and two long curling sets of eyelashes that disappeared into her fur. Her eyes, or any of her face for that matter, could not be seen, though two large curling horns could be made out if you happened to be looking at just the right angle.

            "First day on the job, and I'm already lost," she was trying to laugh, but her nervousness broke in her voice and betrayed her. "It's all the fur in my face, I can't see a thing. You can tell the hairdresser 'simple and low maintenance' all you want, but sometimes it's like their left tentacle doesn't know what the right is perming." She tried to push what she could out of her eyes, only to have more fall in its place to fight with. "But I'm just rambling, I've got a case of the gitters… I …guess…" She trailed up as she got her first good look at the monster she'd been babbling at.

            Glaring red eyes and wild hair that stuck in several directions, the famous and imposing form of none other than,

            "Mr. Sullivan! I had no idea it was you! This is such an honor, really, I'm so sorry, I really am, I must be really lost, and I know this looks bad and if you would kindly remember to forget that you ever saw me that would be wonderful. So, we can just go on and pretend that none of my 'me-ness' ever happened, that would be great." She started to slink off when the shift bell rang and the traffic in the large hall became thicker. A group of monsters struck her from behind sending her tumbling forward and onto the ground.

            "Hey Sid, look out!" Mr. Sullivan's hand came to assistance and pulled her up rather gruffly.

            "Ah jeeze, Sully, I'm sorry!" A green blob turned around and looked distressed as far a green blobs go. "Are you alright Miss?"

            "I'm fine, thank you. I should've been looking where I was going." She brushed at an invisible piece of dirt, lashes toward the floor. With a strange look at her and then a nod at Sully, Sid headed of back in the direction he'd been going.

            "Are you the new receptionist?" Sully was hoping the spastic ball would say no, that she was actually in the wrong place entirely, and had to get going.

            "Yes. Melva Kinkle, am I really in the right place?" He voice was much quieter now. Almost impossible to hear. Sully did his best to hide his sigh. His hope that the new girl would be professional and knowledgeable was dashed, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He'd have to deal with what he had for now and find another replacement as soon as he could.

            "Ms. Kinkle. That name sounds familiar." He thought about it for a moment but when he came up with nothing he shrugged.

            "I get that a lot, it's not an unheard of name. There are lots of Kinkle's out there. Is this my desk?"

            "Yes."

            She stood over it for a minute and then 'hermmmmed.'

            "This is pretty complex looking, do I have someone to train me in?"

            "No."

            If he thought it at all possible he would've sworn she blinked in surprise.

            "Oh." She sat for a moment, motionless, "okay."

            By now the hall had cleared and they were alone. Everything was silent for a few moments until off in the distance the faint tattoo of six running legs could be heard.

            "Mr. Sullivan! We've got a problem out on floor 3, we need you immediately."

            Like that she was alone.

            A phone rang.

            "Thank you for calling Monster's Incorporated, how may I direct your call?"

            Sully looked in the mirror and pulled at the lower lid of his eye. They were still slightly pink looking from lack of sleep, but they were getting better. He had straightened his tie and made some attempt to do something with the bits of fur that had matted themselves to his head. The emergency on the floor turned out to be a simple thing, not really worth pulling him out of what he was doing, but he was glad for the excuse. He should've felt bad for leaving the girl there to fend for herself, but he was almost too tired to care.

            "This isn't like me." He shook his head at the monster in the mirror and turned to leave. A short monster with giant cheeks and great bushy eyebrows that shaded his eyes completely met him at the door.

            "Morning Sully," the tiny guy croaked.

            "Vinny," he returned the greeting with a slight wave. "How's you father?"

            "Still selling scraps, but hey, it's his passion."

            "Well, have a good day."

            "There's nothing I can do to help you, there's just no way." A tiny voice croaked across the line to Melva, using the phone on her lunch break.

            "Mr. Johnson, you don't understand, if I can't get a replacement then my studies are delayed even more and I'll never finish, and it'll have all been for nothing. I can't let that happen!"

            "Listen, I shouldn't even be helping you in the first place, all of this, this, stuff you're doing is craziness, and dangerous."

            "That's what they said about making children laugh, but look at how it is now. You've got to understand, what I'm doing could help all of monster kind!"

            "I'm doing what I can Emma, you know I am." The old monster suddenly sounded tired. She'd been too cross with him and he'd already done so much to help her.

            "I know," she was very quite; almost sad. "I'm just frustrated. Don't let me take it out on you, Mr. Johnson. I can't even begin to thank you for everything you've already done for me." She sighed into the receiver. "I'll be by after work, to see what I can come up with."

            "You've got a job?"

            "I need something to pay for all these expenses. It's just answering phones at the energy company."

            "Monster's incorporated? My son works there! You should meet him, he's a good boy, you would like him. I'll see what I can do."

            "How about worrying more about my part and less about setting me up, Mr. Johnson?" She smiled in spite of herself. "I'll be over after work."

            When she hung up the phone she stole a quick glance at her watch. Lunch was over. With a sigh she dialed the number to turn off the automatic voice message and pulled out the large white binder that the previous receptionist had had the foresight to compile. In it there was an index that outlined all of her duties and lead to pages that went into further depth about the aspects of each.

            "Well good morning there!" A wily looking monster in brown cut offs and a hat of the same color sauntered up to the desk. "No one told me that the new girl was such a pretty thing."

            Had she been able to bat an eye, Melva still wouldn't have.

            "Good morning." She pointed a claw at the package under the monster's arm. "Would you like me to sign for that?"

            He ignored her.

            "The names Bloth, but you can just call me 'yours forever.'" She took her pointing hand in his and slimed his lips over it. "It's a pleasure."

            "It's all mine." She wiped her hand on her fur and took the package. He handed her the electronic signature device and she scrawled on it quickly, nearly thrusting it back at him. "Melva Kinkle," he sighed. "I should've known you'd have a beautiful name. You're much prettier than the last girl. She was a little prickly if you know what I mean."

            "It's hard to imagine." Being prickly wasn't her forte, but she was trying her hardest. "If you'll excuse me I have to deliver this now."

            "I'll just watch you walk away." He lowered his eyelid and leaned against the desk. "I don't mind."

            She felt like gagging.

            It wasn't until she was well down the hall that she realized she had no idea where she was going. She glanced at the name on the package.

            James P. Sullivan.

            Superb! She groaned inwardly. He was the last person she wanted to face. Briefly, she considered handing off the package to someone else, but she really didn't want to admit she was afraid to do the task at hand.

            His office wasn't hard to find. If the Monster's Inc. building had anything, it was good signage. Tentatively she knocked on the door and then swung it open.

            "Mr Sullivan, a package for you." She skittered towards the desk and threw down the box. I'll try to seem busy, she thought, busy is good. Busy is what employers like.

            Sullivan watched her spastically make her way to his desk and then back towards the door. Satisfied she was on her way out he turned his attention back to the package when he heard  ahollow clanking sound followed up by a squeak of panic. He looked up to she the new receptionist hopping on one foot and looking at the pile of old door parts he'd been experimenting with. She paused for a moment and then suddenly relized she was staring and jumped towards the door, slamming it on her way out. The kid was hopeless.

            "Mr. Johnson." Melva had taken longer than she thought she would at home after work. She'd taken a shower, destroying the perm that the hairdresser had erringly tried to apply, and tamed her fur. The sight of her tail again was somewhat of a comfort, and to be able to see at all was even better. It was late now, and she hoped she wasn't disturbing the aging parts dealer. She knocked on the door again. "It's me, Melva."

            "Melva! Come in, you look nice today." He opened the door and immediately made his way to the back of his home, expecting her to follow. "You just missed my son. You would like him."

            "I'm more interested in the part Mr. Johnson."  She laughed a little.

            "Ah! You career girls, always thinking so much of the wrong things. You should be having babies now, not doing this thing." He opened the door to his basement. "And call me Antonick! You make me feel like an old man with this 'Mr. Johnson.'"

            "I'm sorry." The stairs to the basement where steep, and she concentrated on not missing a step and plummeting to the bottom. The old monster was well ahead of her, his frog like body more agile than it would seem. "I take it you have what I need then?"

            "I think I may." His voice broke through the darkness and she squinted until a soft dying light flickered on. She saw Antonick digging through a pile of metallic bits. He came up with a small yellow canister. "Is this it?"

            "Yes!" She nearly cried with joy. "It's perfect! The new door jams are all outfitted for the larger canisters, but I've only been able to find the old door jam parts, which of course can only fit the smaller canisters."

            "What I don't understand," came a croak, "is why you need the canister if you're not collecting energy."

            "The old jams have this safety mechanism." She pointed to a small red latch on the bottom of the container. "You see, if pure scream energy was flowing through the jam, but there was no canister to catch it, any monster anywhere near the Monstropolis side of the door would be exposed to what was once thought to be a highly carcinogenic substance. If this latch here isn't tripped it doesn't complete the power circuit and the door won't operate."

            The old man examined the latch carefully and was about to say something when the doorbell howled.

            "Coming!" he was gone in an instant, leaving Melva to examine the canister more carefully. Using spare parts to build old door jams was a dangerous hobby if you didn't know all of the technical aspects involved. She sat down in a near by recliner and turned the part over in her hands, inspecting it for any flaws that could spoil the integrity of the structure. When the faint sound of steps could be heard, she was too engrossed to notice.

            Sullivan made his way into the dank pit of the basement. He hoped that Vinny was right, that this old monster would have what he was looking for. When he reached the bottom he caught sight of another monster already there, pouring over an old canister. She was short and chubby, but not unbecomingly so. Her snout was slightly up turned and small, and her eyes where very round and large, framed with thick black makeup and a set of incredibly long lashes. The fur on the top of her head had been grown down past her shoulders; the rest of it was kept short. It all had a slight wave to it. She was wearing a denim dress.

            He immediately recognized her coloring.

            "Ms. Kinkle?" Her head shot up at the sound of his voice.

            "Mr. Sullivan! This isn't what it looks like!" She quickly tried to hide the canister behind her back.

Door jam building was an eccentric hobby, but mostly harmless. Few monsters did it; a past time reserved for the older ones who still felt that human children where dangerous and would never dare use them to enter the human world, so no one cared much if they were tinkering with the technology. However, there was still some concern that the technology could be misused, and monsters could pass into the human world unsupervised so most of the old parts had been destroyed. There were still some places where parts could be found, but they had dwindled from there already small numbers when it was discovered that rebuilding a door to a functioning level was next to impossible, the old technology was too complex, filled with endless safeguards and tricks. Her being seen here by Sullivan could have serious consequences.

            "You seem," he looked at her for a moment and then smiled, "different."

            She didn't answer at first. The sight of his smile caught her for a moment and she was transfixed.

            "It's my hair." Absently, she tugged at a few strands and laughed nervously. "I fixed it when I got home. The hairdresser is a family friend. She insisted on destroying it before I went to my new job." Almost immediately Melva felt bad for putting down the monster that had done her hair. She'd only been trying to help, and doing what she thought was best. "What are you doing here?" She tried to sound nonchalant, but she had a hard time concealing her deep interest.

            "I'm looking for a part from an old Jam." He glanced around at the piles of overflowing boxes. "The Jams are the things that hold doors up and make them work." He explained.

            "Oh! I see." She knew he was treating her as if he didn't expect her to know what he was talking about, which was fine. The stupider he thought she was, the safer for her. But, she wondered briefly, what exactly did he think she was doing down here in the first place? "How exciting."

            "You see, the new Jams are pretty simple, but their buggy."

            She almost said 'I know!' but held back.

            "One of the monsters got a kid laughing today and he wouldn't stop. Almost blew away half the floor." He continued to visually survey the piles, running a thoughtful paw through his fur. "I was hoping to find the old part that stopped that problem, to show the engineers. They're all just kids, and they just glaze over when I try to explain it. I'm thinking maybe a visual aide will help a little with the process."

            "Kinetic learning?" She carefully tucked the canister under the chair and stepped towards a smaller pile.

            "Exactly."

            "So you're looking for a fuse cell panel? You're going to have a hard time finding one that's still intact." With a grunt she heaved a large metal panel off of a box and began routing through it. "As you know, the cells are made fragile enough to explode when scream spillover reaches a certain level within the cell. It's nearly impossible to find a completed panel anywhere at all."

            "That's okay, it just needs to be a sample." He stared at her as she dug through the pile. His next words came very slowly, carefully. "How do you know that?"

            "I'm not going to tell you. I'd like to keep my job Mr. Sullivan." Triumphantly she arose from the wreckage, cell panel in hand. "Here. It only has one intact cell, but honestly, that's the best you're going to get. I know where the explosion covers are too if you want one."

            "Why are you here?" There was something dangerous in the way he looked at her.

            "Okay, see, I was waiting for you to ask that." He made her nervous, not just because he was her boss, but something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. With a begrudging sigh she took the canister out from under the chair. "I needed the this to complete the safety relays in my own Door Jam."

            "You said so yourself, the cells are hard to come by. How can you have a completed relay?"

            "I built my own."

            There was silence for a moment as he just stared at her, mouth agape.

            "How?"

            "Would you believe persistence?" Shrugging her shoulders up towards the bottoms of her horns she winced. Now it was going to come, he was going to explode. He was going to yell and scream and rip her to tiny bits. She just knew it.

            "Show me." His voice was a whisper, so she almost missed it.

            He saw her eyes go wide. He'd said something she hadn't expected, but his excitement was too much for him to care. It was fascinating. This was what he needed. Someone who was interested enough in the obsolete technology to actually know every nuance of it. The old engineers had long since disappeared, no doubt by some devious machinations of Mr. Waternoose, and no one was left that could really understand everything about the door jams. He felt like grabbing her and racing to her door jam to prove that it all was real, that this was a problem that could finally be solved, and solved well!

            "Sure, no problem." Her stomach growled. "But I really need to grab something to eat first."

            "It's on me!" Sully insisted. They had made their way, packages in hand, to a little café nearby. It was a quite place, and because of the late hour there were few patrons and the atmosphere was warm and calm. The sat across from one another in a booth, which was intimate but comfortable enough.

            "Oh! No. no. no. no. no." Her fur turned a deeper shade of red. "Please don't pay. I'm too hungry for you to pay."

            "What does that mean?" He laughed, confused.

            "Well, if you pay then I won't eat much because I don't want you to be spending a huge amount on me." Her eyes were dark, and very serious. "But if I pay I can eat what I want knowing I'm the only one who has to worry about just how much this is going to cost."

            "That's not a very logical reason."

            "There is no room for logic when it comes to food Mr. Sullivan."

            "Call me Sully, please?" He could tell he made her nervous. It was a feeling he wasn't used to. Normally, it was his nature to put others at ease, but this monster seemed unable to be anything but high strung.

            She ignored his request.

            "Mr. Sullivan, thank you for coming with me and letting me get something to eat before we went to see my Jam," she wasn't sure why, but saying it like that made what they were doing sound almost indecent, "but I'm going to have to insist on paying."

            "I was just trying to be nice, Melva. It's what monsters do."

            "Thank you. It was very nice." She smiled and he realized that it was the first time he'd seen her do so. "Sometimes I'm a little to persistent when I don't need to be. Old habits, as they say." The waiter was suddenly at the foot of the table.

            "Are you ready to order?"

            Sully was shocked when she ordered nearly half of the menu, and even more surprised when she immediately stopped half of the way through and asked for the rest to be bagged. When he asked her why, she gladly explained.

            "I'm on a tight budget." She blotted at her mouth with her napkin and then smiled a quick thanks to the waiter as he took the dishes away. "If ever I'm eating out, and I spend over a certain amount of money I take part of it home and eat it for the next couple of days."

            "It makes sense," Sully grinned, "and yet it doesn't at the same time. Why not just spend what you budget and not eat left-overs all the time?"

            Her eyes caught his for a moment and their intensity caught him off guard.

            "Mr. Sullivan, what would be the fun in that?"

            "It's amazing." With a careful eye he looked over the entire construction. "How exactly did you manage all of this?"

            "You mean finding the parts, or making them? Both were pretty easy." She shrugged and walked over to the jam. "It was finding out how each piece went together that was the tough part." She ran a claw over the key pad lovingly. "It's really quite a genius bit of construction. A sophisticated system of checks and balances that all work together or they don't work at all. Poetic really." She smiled up at the unlit red bulb at the top of the Jam's arch. Sullivan saw the reverence she had for the machine, but then furrowed his brow.

            "How can you be sure it works if you don't have a door?" He recognized something like fear in her eyes and the look made him press the matter. "You do realize that being in possession of an unauthorized door is a serious criminal offense."

            "Oh! I know!" She stammered and backed away. "I don't actually have a real door, you see… oh damn…" Sullivan's eyes glared at her angrily.

            "Melva, if you have a door, tell me now. I won't turn you in, but it must be destroyed." His voice was deadly serious and it made her quake. Sullivan mad was not a monster to be toyed with.

            "I trust you Sullivan, I don't know why, but I do." She was looking right at him again, into him, and the look almost quelled his anger. Slowly standing, she made her way to her coffee table and set aside the few magazines and the set of boxed tools to pull away the drapery. Beneath it was a white slab of wood with several odd metal bits attached to it. There was a whimsical drawing of a monster painted in the center and a hand printed declaration that the door lead to 'melva's room.' "It's a false door. These metal receptors here are also transmitters. They basically fool the jam into thinking that it's holding an actual door that has a human equivalent, when really all it's got is a piece of wood that lies well."

            Sully was truly speechless.

            "But I'm not really sure if any of it works." She quickly added. "Theory and the little testing I can do shows that it should. The canister is the final piece that should tell if I'm right, or just growling at windmills."

            In a heartbeat he was on the door, had put it in place and tucked the canister into its spot. It may have been awhile since he'd done it, but the movements came as second nature. "Try it." He urged her over to the door and jam, "please."

            She watched him for a moment and wondered at the desperate look he had. With a slight nod she turned to the panel and flipped the switch that opened the flow of energy into the system. There was a second when nothing happened and then suddenly it seemed as if the entire amalgamation groaned to life and they both grinned from horn to horn when the little red light at the top lit up.

            "It works." Sully whispered and he took a few slow steps towards the door.

            Melva was slower in her realization. Abruptly, she began to cry and laugh all at once.

            "It works!" They both cried out at the same time. They jumped and hollered and hugged.

            They both froze. Inches from his face she caught his eyes and saw so many things pass through them she could only name a few. Excitement, shock, fear.

            "It works." Her voice was caught in her throat and she coughed slightly as she backed away from him.

            And then there was the explosion.

            It wasn't big. More of a loud pop really, but it was enough to make them both jump and their hearts beat just a little bit faster. Smoke rose in small tendrils from the transmitters.

            "Oh damn!" She walked up to the false door, blown slightly out of the Jam and sitting at an angle, and moved to flick one of the transmitters.

            "Wait!" Sullivan was suddenly behind her, pulling her hand back. "Turn it off first. You're going to hurt yourself if you touch it."

            "Oh, yeah…" Nodding slowly she moved slowly, turning a thought over in her mind. When she spoke, it was more to herself than Sully. "I should have know that was going to happen. I ran out of money around the time I finally constructed the transmitters. They're mostly tinfoil and not much else."

            "Tinfoil?" There was no need to look at him to tell he was shocked.

            "Yeah. A lot of this is." She sighed, flipping off the power. "Sadly enough."

            Sullivan suddenly looked at the Jam more closely as saw that she was right. The thing was a sad patchwork of bits as pieces. He even thought he spied car parts, but had the forethought not to ask were she'd requisitioned them.

            "My office. Tommorrow. Early." Was all he said.

            And then he was gone.

            "Melva," a voice called out to here from somewhere outside of herself. "Melva!"

            "Huh?"

            "Welcome back." The person sitting next to her was laughing at her absentness. "Where are you tonight? I called your name several times."

            "I'm sorry." She rubbed her forehead and looked as unworried as possible. "Tough day at work.

            "That's right! How's the new job, I almost forgot."

            "Good." She sighed and then groaned as her companion gave her an unconvinced look. "Terrible. My boss is… odd. And I think I've gotten myself into a bit of trouble. Seems like ever day it gets a little bit harder to keep all of this a secret. I can only imagine what they'd say about me after my research comes out. Crazy Kinkle!" She gave an amused snort. "Wouldn't be the first time."

            "Come on." The room was lit by a single small light and a small form in Melva's friend's arms moved slightly in sleep. "It's not that bad. You believe in what you're doing, that's all that matters. Besides, if what you say is true then all of this can be a helpful to monster kind, and that's what matters. Cheer up. You're not a glum sort."

            "It's just hard sometimes." Melva set down her clipboard and reached out to take the small writhing form into her own arms. "But I'm not really that down, just a little moody. It's been a rough day." Suddenly the bundle in her arms shifted enough that the swaddling fell away and a tiny human face peered out at her. "But this little sleeper, and your company, make it so much better."


End file.
